


The Heist

by saintscully



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV) References, Fluff and Crack, Halloween, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:34:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27062005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintscully/pseuds/saintscully
Summary: “Detective Inspector, I believe you’re in my debt.” Sherlock says, sounding as if Lestrade had vowed to give him his firstborn and failed to deliver on that promise.(*This story assumes you're familiar with Brooklyn Nine Nine's Halloween heist.)
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 38
Collections: A Halloween 13 2020





	The Heist

**Author's Note:**

> A little Halloween ficlet inspired by Brooklyn Nine Nine, written for the 2020 [A Halloween 13: A Johnlock & Mystrade Halloween Advent Calendar](https://ahalloween13.tumblr.com/), who added a prompt of Michael Jackson's Thriller.
> 
> Much thanks to [S_IRIS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_IRIS/pseuds/S_IRIS) for benig a quick and flawless beta!
> 
> -
> 
> I am [therealsaintscully](http://therealsaintscully.tumblr.com) on Tumblr and [saintscully2](https://twitter.com/saintscully2) on Twitter. Come say hi.

John stands by the bar with a beer bottle in his hand, watching an entire squad of NSY officers and civilians dancing drunkenly to Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’. They’re decked out in the most absurd costumes one can imagine - Donovan as Draco Malfoy, Anderson as Marilyn Monroe, Peter What's-His-Name an _thoroughly_ unattractive nurse.

He laughs out loud at the surreal image as Lestrade, an eye patch covering his eye, tilts his head towards the group, laughing as well, as if saying _‘get a load of that’_. 

“A whole month they’ve been rehearsing this,” Lestrade yells over the thumping of the music, taking a swig of his pint. John snickers at that.

“They’re terrible!”

“What’s up with sunshine over there?” Lestrade yells back, jutting his chin towards the back of the room. “Not a Michael Jackson fan?”

“He’s a terrible drunk,” John shrugs fondly, staggering to his feet to go and sit next to the grumpy detective. Sherlock sits at the head of the large table, watching the scene with a slightly disgusted glare. 

When the dance is over and the group gathers around the big table, he calls out loudly to Lestrade: “Well, that was tedious!”

“Shut up, Sherlock,” Lestrade slurs, lips tipping up in a drunken smile. “You’re harshing everyone’s buzz.”

“Detective Inspector, I believe you’re in my debt,” Sherlock says, sounding as if Lestrade had vowed to give him his firstborn and failed to deliver on that promise.

“Not now, Sherlock.” Lestrade shakes his head. “Relax, have some fun.”

“I’d rather be waterboarded,” Sherlock grumbles. “Go ahead.” He says and straightens in his chair and crosses his hands expectantly.

“ _FINE_.” Lestrade sighs loudly and shakes his head, mumbling angrily. “Every. Year.” 

“Enough grumbling, Grant-”

“It’s _Greg_ -”

“ _Whatever_.” Sherlock cuts him off, his hand swirling in dismissal. “Now, seeing as you've _lost_ , you have an important announcement to make, so the floor is yours.” He gestures regally at the table. 

John rolls his eyes, chuckling. _Every year indeed_.

“Ladies and gents,” Lestrade sighs, standing up, and thunders over the music. “May I have your attention, please?” 

Everyone at the table sighs loudly, far too familiar with this ritual. 

“ _Sherlock Holmes,”_ Lestrade starts, and John huffs in amusement when he notices Sherlock is moving his lips along him without a sound, expecting the DI’s next words. _“Is an amazing Detective-slash-genius_ . Now, if you’ll excuse me, _I_ have some paperwork to do.”

There are scattered claps from around the table. Sherlock nods his head in thanks, then stands up a bit too quickly. He has to grab John’s sleeve on his way up, clearly drunk. John thinks nothing of this until Sherlock grabs him by his shirt and crashes his mouth onto his. Sherlock kisses him sloppily, hungrily, for a good long minute. 

John realizes he’d forgotten how to breathe, what with being busy kissing the detective back.

“You heard the man, John. I’m a genius.” Sherlock mumbles, releasing John’s shirt. He moves quickly and heads towards the door, calling John over his shoulder. “Let’s go!”

“Hmmm. Right.” John croaks, flustered. He clears his throat when he notices all eyes around the table are on him. “Coming!”


End file.
